


Passionate Hate

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, M/M, Points of View, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-26
Updated: 2005-11-26
Packaged: 2018-12-26 22:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12068277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: The boy added color and sound to a bland world, sunshine after an unknown amount of rain and gray. Fuck, the boy was the sun, Brian's own fucking Apollo.





	Passionate Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

**P** assionate **H** ate

Lets get the story straight.  
Brian Kinney hates Justin Taylor. Always has and always will. Like nothing that he has ever known.

And while everyone else is so dead set on convincing him otherwise, it's not doing anything to changes his mind or his option on the matter they're all wrong. Brian 'Fucking' Kinney doesn't change, not for anyone especially some blond twink who he just happened to fuck more then once. Feelings and words count for shit. 

Like hell his life has gotten 'better' since the night the boy stumbled into his life wearing sneakers, blue plaid and a smile that could power the city of New York for a at least six months, including that fucking big ass tree they put up at Christmas. Unless being assaulted, involved in a intentional car accident, having his credit card stole, loft burglarized, losing his job and becoming broke were all part of his once fab-fucking-lous lifestyle then he was quite sure a IQ test, CAT scan and many years of therapy were necessary.

Sucking and fucking was his way of life, nothing had changed since the boy's arrival some years ago. The Stud of Liberty Ave was still reigning over the serfs of twinks. What did it matter that he fucked the King of Babylon at least six times a day, at least he was sticking his dick in the best. There were worst things then fucking the same person more then once, five times or even a hundred as he was sure that’s the amount they had reached. Much worst things like a sudden immunity to Anita's wonderful stash. Now that’s a fucking Greek tragedy right there. That would automatically drive him over the edge, the end of the world, as we know it.

Nothing was simply and easy anymore; no single action or word could be taken at face value. Laying a hand on his shoulder or lower back as the walked to the car, and random kiss on the forehead while sitting in a booth at the diner or having an arm wrapped around his waist as they walked down the street. And while they were things that he didn't normally do when interacting with other people, they were no fucking reason to start the gossip train through Liberty Ave. Was nothing personal anymore, just because no one had a life didn't mean they had to voice their opinion about his.

Silly little faggot for thinking that queers could hold stable relationships like breeders, Ben and Michael were the ringleaders of the little freak show and while at first it was quite entertaining to just watch that train wreck even the most interesting soap operas soon loose their flavor. Sure his 'fuck 'em' all attitude was one his selling points, even he was going to admit that the odds just might be too high for those two to remain together it was only a matter of time.

Back onto the main point for this thought train of a wasted mind. Everything about the blond hot piece of ass annoyed him, from the way the boy seemingly was incapable of hanging his own clothes up to the way he could tell when the boy was too lazy to get up and refill his glass when the sound to crunching ice filled the loft. When the loft was silent, the sound still echoed off the walls.

Hated the way blond felt at ease in his loft by walking around in a pair of boxers, socks and a sweater all the while complaining about the temperature, the way his pupils darkened to the almost a sapphire color when he was turned on and the iris widen but quickly contracted as he orgasmed. Hated that more matter where and in what position the boy fell asleep in, when Brian woke up first in the morning he had found a way to entwine their legs and loop both arms around his bare midsection. When Gus came over for the weekend or during a family emergency at the munchers, he hated that sunshine could keep his son occupied long enough he was able to sleep in longer then most days because no matter what day sonny boy came over he always seemed to need more sleep. Hated that the boy wasn't afraid to tell him to fuck off or to get off his high horse, or better yet, to quit with the mid-life-crisis he was too young for that. That the boy could alter his mood with the mere brush of his lips to that certain stop on the right side of the nape of his neck while wrapping his arms around the brunette's neck, it was more the little things that he hated. The fact he no longer minded when the blond was referred to as the 'boyfriend' rather then the 'twink who didn't go away.' Hated how easy it was to cause the boy to smile or worst yet how empty he felt when it slid from his face, more often then not by something he said or did.   
Hated the way the boy gave the best head, even better then himself. No matter how many times he would thrust into Sunshine, the boy was as tight as the first night. That the little bastard knew his body better then any lover should, where to touch softly or to bite hard. Hated to let the boy ride him because even though it was him with his dick up the boy's perfect ass, while laying there exposed and flat on his back as sunshine slid up and down, clenching and releasing. Hated   
that he was captivated by the emotions that darted across his face, that the boy didn't even have to open his eyes for Brian to know what he was feeling. The part the fucking bothered him was that he wanted the blond to open his eyes and gaze down at him with that expression of love and innocence that remained constant no matter what life threw at him. The boy just never knew when the world was against him, taking on his mentor's approach of 'fuck um' all'. Hated that the boy had wormed himself into their 'family' from hell, everyone else’s odds and ends.

But the thing that he hated was that for the first in his thirty fucking years on this hell hole of a planet, that boy had been the reason the Stud of Liberty Avenue was caught of guard and for the first time, reality caught up.

He hated him for the night in that parking lot when pure blood left a permanent stain on the cold cement, slick like oil and twice as deadly.

He had sworn, bitched and cursed at everyone and everything. When the sky started to melt and ran like drops of water on a painting, scenery froze around him as the world became achromatic and silent while fire the burned across the surface of the water like a ripple from hell.

And he prayed.

Sitting in that white waiting room with blood and tears etched into every pore of his face, tattoo and unclean. Brain 'Fucking' Kinney prayed to God for the life of a blond haired blue-eyed twink whom he seemed to have lost all his pride and broken all his rules for. Christ Kinney, get a grip. This wasn't the way things were suppose to go, but then again nothing ever really goes according to plan.

The boy added color and sound to a bland world, sunshine after an unknown amount of rain and gray. Fuck, the boy was the sun, Brian's own fucking Apollo.

There were a multitude of other things he hated about Boy Wonder. He hated how words weren't enough anymore, the walls around his heart refused to hold and how sharp his tongue was when in defense against their relationship. How nothing seemed to fit now that he was gone, hated the ache in his chest that only altered to deepen when he could sense his sunshine. Despising the connection between them that refused to lessen even though they were no longer 'together'.

But the worst thing, abso-fucking-lute worst thing was that now that the fun and games weren't so fun anymore. That he wanted the life Justin had offered him when gazing up at him with love-struck eyes, not the type that fades with time, but the true blue shit. The type that held fairy tales together and went against everything just to come out on fucking top.

Peter Pan had grown up, now it was time to get his prince back.  
Sunshine had promised forever.  
And he was there to collect.

 

_"You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul."_  
-Julie-Jeanne-Eleonore de Lespinasse [1774]


End file.
